


Coming of Age

by Wolven_Spirits



Series: The Thrall of Pleasure [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Coming of Age, Dubious Consent, Gods and Monsters, Lots of Sex, M/M, Mind Manipulation, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spit Roasting, Tentacles, emphasis on coming, of a sort, somewhat dark, what is Voldemort, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 02:17:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20382052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolven_Spirits/pseuds/Wolven_Spirits
Summary: Every witch and wizard who attends Hogwarts will spend the night inside the Forbidden Forest on the day they come of age.The weak in magic tend to be fine.Sometimes a witch or wizard will come back with no memory of the night and some questionable soreness.Sometimes, the strongest never return.





	Coming of Age

**Author's Note:**

  * For [autumn_fog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumn_fog/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [autumn_fog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumn_fog/pseuds/autumn_fog) in the [TomarryFlashExchanges](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TomarryFlashExchanges) collection. 

> **Prompt:**
> 
> A dark being known as Voldemort lives in the forrest that surrounds Hogsmede. Voldemort leaves Hogsmede alone so long as witches and wizards stay the night inside the woods on the day they come of age. The weak in magic tend to be fine. Sometimes a witch or wizard will come back with no memory of the night and some questionable soreness. Sometimes, the strongest never return.

Harry swallowed as he exchanged a glance with Neville. Both of them were dressed in the ceremonial white robes worn for one occasion only: their Coming of Age. They were flimsy and thin, and Harry was glad that his birthday was in the middle of summer, rather than the dead of winter. Even now, he couldn’t help but shiver in the cool evening breeze.

Or perhaps it was the shadows brushing along his skin that was making his skin tingle. Making him feel so very vulnerable, with no wand to defend himself. Because in truth, Harry didn’t feel cold. He was flushed with the warmth of his magic as it surged, bright and excited at this momentous occasion.

The moon rose overhead and the two wizards nodded to each other before starting along the path. The dirt was hard and compacted under their feet and the occasional twig snapped as they walked. Twice, Neville tripped, and once, Harry jumped as a leaf brushed against his ankle.

He felt silly for being so nervous. He was a Gryffindor. He should be laughing in the face of this trial. No, not even a trial. Of this ceremonial walk. It was something that every witch and wizard of Hogwarts went through. Most returned, moaning about having to stay up all night walking through the winding forest. Some, like Ron, limped out of the forest in confusion, unable to quite remember what had happened, though feeling strangely bereft.

Hermione thought that it was simply the effect of large burst of magical energy that occurred when one came of age. There was a reason it was such an important day: it was the day their magic expanded to its fullest, forever marking their cores.

The stronger the witch or wizard, Hermione reasoned, the more such an event played with their memories. Magic was wonderful, after all, but also very strange, and she didn’t believe in such things as monsters in the dark, or old, gods and monsters that lingered in this realm.

Harry knew that he would rather believe Hermione’s theory, but he couldn’t quite, because sometimes… sometimes a witch or wizard would walk into the forest, and simply never return.

The strongest ones, they said, were both blessed and cursed.

Harry and Neville paused as they reached a fork in the path. It was without thought that they nodded to each other and stepped down their respective trails. Neville to the right, and Harry to the left. It did not occur to him to follow the other. For somehow he knew that what he would face, he would have to face alone.

A shiver ran up his spine.

It was dark, now, deeper in the forest. The moonlight could barely reach the forest floor, and the further Harry walked, the more the shadows grew.

They were reaching out to him, whispering secrets into his ears. Promises that he understood and yet could not fathom.

Branches caught on his robes and he swore he heard a giggle as it began to tear, the flimsy cloth no match for the gnarling, clawed reach of the elder trees.

Harry felt a chill run along his skin. A sense of dread pooled deep within him, growing with each step. Because no matter what Hermione believed, Harry knew that there was something here. Something more. Something greater than any of them.

Harry could feel it. Could sense it. Its presence curled around him, gentle and curious for now. It stroked along the curve of his neck, up his arms and along his chest. It sighed delightedly as Harry’s magic flared, strengthening as the midnight hour approached.

It was a cool touch, contrasting with the heat of his magic that had started growing. In truth, Harry’s magic had started growing weeks ago. He had played it off as the summer heat, but he had been flushed and warm the entire time, far too soon.

He had tried not to think of the implications. Because Ron hadn’t felt any heat until an hour before his ceremony began. Neither had Neville.

Only Harry.

He stumbled slightly as his magic flared, his limbs weakening in the onslaught of fire running through his veins. Merlin, he was so very _hot_. He divested himself of the last of his tattered robe, unable to stand the feel of the cloth against his sensitive skin.

Something cool brushed across his lips and he breathed in sharply at the intimate gesture. A voice crooned in his ear, dark and smooth, accompanied by the sound of hissing. What it said, Harry could not make out, but he obeyed nonetheless, parting his lips to accept it.

It slid into his mouth, cool and soothing against his tongue. It expanded until it was almost too large for him to take, stretching his jaw as far as it could go. Harry wanted to reach up and pull it out, but it was so wonderfully cool inside of him and his hands were otherwise preoccupied now, one of them reading down to fondle his balls and the other stroking himself, awakening desire within his loins.

His head tilted back as the tendril pushed forward, gently at first as if to test resistance, then surging down his throat, leaving a trail of blessed relief as it went.

Harry whined, and upon the voice’s encouragement, moved his hands faster. Pleasure began to build and Harry moaned, a strangled sound as his mouth and throat were filled and used, again and again and again.

He was hot, so very hot, and he needed, oh Merlin, he _needed_. His hands stroked faster. He was so close. Just a little more -

He paused, and tears of frustration leaked from his eyes as he moved his hands away from his cock. One of them spread his cheeks and the other teased his pucker, pushing against the tight ring a few times, never quite slipping in.

Darkness brushed against his skin, a pleased hiss flowing through him, urging him onwards. He had to show that he was ready - had to present himself in time.

One finger pressed forward, breaching him and sliding all the way in. He winced at the strange sensation, the mild burning. He crooked his finger, seeking something that he could not seem to find. Frustrated, he added a second finger, and not much later, a third. He moved them, his cock twitching as he stretched himself to the wishes of the dark voice that whispered in his ears.

_Yes-s._

Harry sighed as he withdrew his fingers, feeling oddly empty without something inside him. His mouth and throat were still bulging and full, but he needed… more.

Arching his back, he reaching behind him once more and used both index fingers to hold himself open, an obscene invitation to be filled.

A thrum of satisfaction burst from the darkness around him, and Harry’s eyes fluttered as he was surrounded by something so blissfully cool. He was burning so fiercely that he could barely think straight. His magic was rippling through him, running hotter and hotter, a fiery heat that only this darkness could quell. Yes, he needed this. He needed to be filled with the cold touch of this great being, this shadow, this _god_.

For Harry knew most certainly that Hermione was wrong. There was something in the forest - something that judged each witch and wizard that walked the path. And if it deemed them worthy, it would take.

And oh, how Harry wanted it to take him. To fill him to the very brim, and take everything Harry could give. He wondered briefly if Ron had experienced this. If Neville was being filled as he was. But then such thoughts - any thoughts that did not involve this god, this Voldemort, suddenly seemed inconsequential. Because nothing was more important than what was happening right now. Nothing was more important that Voldemort.

_Yes-s._

A tendril nudged at his entrance, and he pulled wider, trying to accommodate its girth. It pushed forward, stretching him beyond what should have been possible. Merlin, it burned as it nudged deeper and deeper, painful and yet wonderfully cool as it brushed along his walls, seeking ever more.

Harry removed his fingers, returning his hand to his cock as the tendril began to thrust, slow shallow, a painful stretch that soon turned to blessed relief and - oh, such pleasure as it brushed against that spot.

_Oh, more_, Harry prayed as he was fucked from both ends, his body held aloft by the very tendrils that pierced him. His hands trembled as he stroked himself, his flesh glistening with sweat, his body glowing as his magic grew fuller and brighter as the clock edged towards midnight.

_Soon._

Yes, soon. His magic would peak, so very soon. Harry needed to come when it did, in order for the ritual to work. In order for his god, for Voldemort, to take all that Harry could give. Yes, yes, that was good. That was very good.

For a moment Harry couldn’t quite tell which words were his own and which belonged to the darkness, but in the end, he knew, it didn’t matter. Because in the end, Voldemort was everything.

The tendrils began to thrust faster, and Harry arched helplessly, his body used. Invaded. And oh, how wonderful it felt. How he craved each motion, each thrust.

He felt so sensitive, so close to the edge. Each movement that brushed against his skin sent pleasure flaring through his body. His hands moved desperately, his eyes rolling as his muscles began to tense, so close, so close, _so close_.

Tears dripped down his cheeks as his hips jerked, longing for release. His cock was weeping thick, white pre come, but he had to wait - had to wait for the right time. Harry wanted to beg, wanted to scream, wanted to plead for Voldemort to please, please let him come, because oh how he needed. How he yearned.

The air around him swirled, a mixture of Harry’s magic and the darkness that held him at its mercy.

_Now._

Harry’s body went taught, his orgasm ripping through him as his magic flared, burning hot. Pleasure overcame him, his seed splattering across his chest. Bursts of ecstasy flared as the tendrils continued to move, his body twitching helplessly, overstimulated as every last ounce of pleasure was wrung from him.

And Harry found that he did not want this moment to end.

It was a strange dichotomy, the way the darkness spread its chill throughout his body, blending with the heat of Harry’s magic that burst from his core, triumphant in Harry’s celebration of birth. It leapt and twisted, singing its glee, and was slowly engulfed by the darkness until Harry felt cool, warmed only by a low simmer of his magic, mature now, resting in his core.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, the tendrils slipped from his body, and Harry found himself dropping to the ground, his knees giving way. He caught himself on his hands and knees, his body heaving as he panted, feeling strangely bereft.

The excess magic that had hovered around him was gone, but that was not what he missed. No, he felt unburdened by what he had given. It was something else. Something that only Voldemort could give him.

_Such power_, the voice crooned, stroking his cheek. Harry leaned into the touch, eyes glazing. _Yes-s._

Harry sighed as he was lifted, his body slowly swallowed by the shadows.

_I think I’ll keep you._


End file.
